


Salt-Loaded Shotguns And Pentagrams

by nwspaprtaxis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Between Seasons/Series, Blood, Demon Blood, Demon Blood Addiction, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hell Trauma, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Lies, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Lisa Braeden, Protective Ruby, Sexual Content, Tenderness, Undefined Timeline, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2626661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nwspaprtaxis/pseuds/nwspaprtaxis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated drabbles and flash fiction for based on word prompts focusing on Dean and Sam Winchester and mostly of the H/C variety. All the fics will be posted here to keep them all pretty and tidy in one neat bundle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood-Bones-Butterfly-Thunderstorm-Burbon: Take One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quickreaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickreaver/gifts), [soncnica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/gifts).



> **_A/N:_** So I was whining that I hadn't been able to write in months and it was making me depressed and **quickreaver** came to the rescue, challenging me to write a ficlet of approximately a couple hundred words, using a list of five words she provided. All the fics are unbeta'd due to time constraints although they have at least been looked over and edited.
> 
>  ** _Disclaimer:_** Do not own. Am not making a profit. Just simply having fun with their psyches and returning them slightly more battered to Kripke and Co. and all that Yada Yada.

**Date: November 15, 2014**

**Challenge Words:**

  * BLOOD
  * BONES
  * BUTTERFLY
  * THUNDERSTORM
  * BOURBON



**Word Count: 280**

**Timeline: Between Seasons 3 and 4**

* * *

When he first takes her into his hold, all slim lithe dark-haired delicacy, he feels as though she’d snap in his bare hands. He isn’t fooled. There is iron strength in her bones, an undercurrent of darkness that she won’t ever let him forget, no matter how many nights she cradles his cheek, kissing away wet, messy tears of grief. Her blood is one-hundred-proof bourbon, burning down his throat in liquid fire. He clings to her, lips clamped around her forearm, suckling the maroon scorch from her veins. He knows that Dean would hate him; that he is going against everything they’d ever stood for, but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter. Not when there’s so much at stake. Not when there’s a thunderstorm, all sparking electricity, roiling through his veins. Not when she’s there to straddle his lap and fuck him senseless. He’s not stupid — he knows she’s got an agenda of her own and he’s a pawn, but he’s using her for his own means, too. She teaches him how to harness his anger and pain and she’s there the first time he pulls the black essence that demons are made of from a host. And, later, when he’s hunched over the toilet, exhausted from dry, empty-stomached retching, nose caked brownish-crimson, she strokes back his sweaty bangs, makes him rinse his mouth with water so cold it hurts his teeth, and wipes his face with a washcloth that’d been soaked in hot water. She gets him back into bed, slotting along his side; her thigh pressing up into his crotch as she, eyes oil-slick-black, feeds him red ambrosia and whispers _it’ll be all right, butterfly_ into his ear.


	2. Blood-Bones-Butterfly-Thunderstorm-Burbon: Take Two

**Date: November 15, 2014**

**Challenge Words:**

  * BLOOD
  * BONES
  * BUTTERFLY
  * THUNDERSTORM
  * BOURBON



**Word Count: 280**

**Timeline: Between Seasons 5 and 6**

* * *

Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes, one right after the other, the building thunderstorm in full fury. In the darkness of the office, Dean pours himself another finger or three of bourbon and drinks slowly. There is not enough alcohol in the world to tamp down the pain. Three months since Sam threw himself into the pit and he can still see the gaping opening in the ground, his ginormous baby brother tumbling in. He can still feel the tacky blood gumming his lips and the ache of fractured bone in his face, can still smell the stench of death emanating from the darkness below. There’s a clap of thunder, a flash of light. A tentative touch settles on his shoulder and makes him swivel, hand raised defensively. Lisa flinches, pulling away and stepping back. He takes a breath, hating himself for putting fear in her eyes, and tries for a reassuring smile but it feels more like a grimace and he brings the whiskey to his lips, swallowing the last of it. It no longer burns. Hadn’t for a while. She edges closer, wary and cautious, her touch coming to rest on his shoulder, aligning with the still-angry handprint beneath his sleeve. He lets her guide him to her bed, pliant beneath her kisses and caresses. He forces himself to be gentle as he takes her within his arms as carefully as he would hold a butterfly, stroking her hair with sure fingers, cupping her face between his palms, and tries not to think of what muscle and cartilage looks like as Alastair slips between his ribs and reminds him how he used to peel back flesh with his thumbs.


	3. Wolf-Green-Cat-Breathe-Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These set of words were prompted by **soncnica**. I hope you enjoy! Unbeta'd, unedited. Sorry it's so short.

**Date: December 15, 2014**

**Challenge Words:**

  * WOLF
  * GREEN
  * CAT
  * BREATHE
  * BITCH



**Word Count: 111**

**Timeline: Undefined; could be pre-series through present-day**

* * *

He focuses on the dark green of the pine tree above him. _It should be dark_ , he thinks, _it's been hours_. Had to be. But it's not. The sky beyond the spiked needles is thick and gray, the heavy fog pressing down on him and making it hard to breathe. He really really hopes his brother got the wolf. It'd be a bitch to have to come back here. The branches sway overhead and his hands feel sticky. Right. He's bleeding. Then there's the rustle of leaves, footfalls soft as a cat, and before he can react, there's strong, sturdy hands and he's upright, the world swirling and flipping on him.

"Easy. I gotcha," the voice in his ear says.


End file.
